


it's not in the plan

by victoriousscarf



Category: DCU
Genre: Canon-Typical Injuries, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 04:02:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21207071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: “Kiss me.”





	it's not in the plan

They were shoved in a small room, possibly a closet or possibly a cell but Bruce couldn’t even quite remember how they’d gotten there, which meant there was probably some fear toxin or other chemical in play. 

But they were pressed up close, Bruce sitting with his back against one wall and Dick with his back against the other but their legs were tangled up and Dick was dangerously close to being on his lap. 

“Bruce?” Dick asked softly and it was too dark to really see him.

“I’m awake,” Bruce said, voice hoarse. 

“Oh good,” Dick said and Bruce frowned, because his voice sounded too light.

“Nightwing?” he whispered, because Dick had used his _name_, and his mind finally set up the warning signal. Something must have been in play if it had taken him that long to notice. 

“It’s Talia,” Dick whispered. “It’s okay.”

“You don’t sound that good,” Bruce said, because even when Talia already knew who they all were, Dick didn’t use names casually in the field.

“No,” Dick said and Bruce shifted, sitting up straighter and leaning forward and he heard Dick’s quiet gasp of pain so he stilled immediately. 

“Dick?” he whispered, worried now. 

“I, uh,” Dick started and trailed off. 

“Dick?” Bruce asked with more desperation, hoping he was still awake. 

“Yeah,” Dick breathed. “I’m here. I just, I think I lost a lot of blood.”

This time Bruce tried to reach forward, to feel Dick, but he couldn’t feel blood on his legs, which were pressed up against his, or his waist and stomach and he felt worry grow. 

“Dick,” he said.

“Something’s wrong with a rib too,” Dick said and Bruce stilled his hand that was against his side. 

“Where did you lose the blood?”

“Up,” Dick said and he took Bruce’s hand with his and Bruce tried not to focus on that. Dick pressed his hand against his opposite shoulder and Bruce felt the tear in the back, the blood dripping down to his back and against the wall. 

“We’re going to get out of this,” he said firmly, because he wouldn’t ever allow it to be any other way. 

“Yeah,” Dick agreed, like he always believed Bruce. Somehow Bruce thought he would have gotten out of that habit at some point. 

“How long have we been in here?” Bruce asked.

“Couple of hours,” Dick said, and his voice was still soft. 

“Alright,” Bruce said and he raised a hand, feeling up. But there was no room to stand so he started pushing out against the walls on either side of him, trying to figure out which way the room opened. There had to be a door in _some_ direction.

“Hey Bruce?” Dick asked. 

“What?” Bruce asked, trying to jostle him as little as possible.

“This isn’t me giving up,” Dick said and Bruce’s head snapped up. “It’s gonna sound like it, but it isn’t.”

“What isn’t?” he asked, and there was worry churning in his stomach.

“I’m not asking this because I don’t think we’re not going to get another chance,” Dick continued. 

“Ask what?” Bruce asked, and he had stopped searching, bringing his hands back to Dick. 

“That I want you to kiss me,” Dick said and Bruce stopped. He stopped moving, he stopped breathing, he stopped thinking. 

“What?” he managed.

“Kiss me,” Dick said, and Bruce wished he could see his face. “I feel like we’re always waiting for something, refusing to think about it and I just–I just want you to kiss me.”

“Right now?” Bruce asked, because he had hoped, he had dreamed, he had wanted. But he had always planned things, and he had planned long ago that if he would ever kiss Dick, it would have to be right. It would have to be perfect, or what was the point of wasting all those years when they could have been together?

But then again, he realized, maybe _that_ had been the problem.

This though, this was so far from perfect he wasn’t sure what to do. 

“Yes, right now,” Dick said and he shifted, even though it made him hiss in pain and Bruce caught him, pulling him closer. When Dick was settled against his chest, with Bruce’s hands holding him steady, he felt Dick’s breath against his cheek. 

“Are you sure?” Bruce asked, because they had been dancing around this for so _long_. 

“Yes,” Dick said. “Just–kiss me.” 

So Bruce did, and it was gentle at first, barely a touch, because Dick was injured and he couldn’t see his face and there was no room to move. But then Dick opened his mouth and let out a soft breath against Bruce’s mouth and Bruce eased him closer, kissing him harder, feeling Dick’s hands on his shoulders. 

It hadn’t, perhaps, been worth the entire wait, because they were both stubborn and stupid, and it wasn’t a planned perfect, but it felt perfect with Dick in his arms and his mouth soft against his. 

The second time was even better, when they had escaped, and were on the way home, the batplane on autopilot and Dick’s wounds bandaged and Dick sitting in his lap, miles above the earth. 


End file.
